Free I'll Scream Later (No Series) by Marlee Matlin Page A

Jewish girl because this religion is very important to me…because it teaches about what happened in the past to our people…. When I first studied Hebrew with the Rabbi, it was completely different because I didn’t know Hebrew at all! At first it was hard, but then you get used to it and it’s easy and I love it.
    My cousin Lynne wasn’t able to come, but her parents did, my beloved uncle Jason and aunt Norma. Lynne still remembers their telling her about the service: “My mother said it was the most amazing experience to watch this child recite these ancient words. Everyone there was crying as they watched.”
    When I looked up and saw everyone crying, tears started streaming down my face. I looked down and saw my tears had fallen on the Torah.
    “I’m so sorry, Rabbi,” I said over and over.
    “Don’t worry, my child, our history is stained by tears. Your tears are a wonderful mitzvah.”
    I’ll never forget that moment, that day, his kindness. I began to feel whole again.
     
    I HAVE , IN my own way, tried to stay connected to my faith over the years. Many of the speeches I give and the fund-raisers I work on are tied to Jewish organizations that reach their hands out to help. Whether it’s to the aging or the sick, I am always moved by their commitment and their sacrifice.
    I was reminded of all of this last summer when my aunt lost a hard-fought battle against cancer.
    In her final days, the family gathered in her room, all of us taking turns visiting with her. As I was leaving the house for the hospital, my six-year-old son, Tyler, said he wanted to give her a rose, so I found a perfect red one at the hospital’s shop on my way in.
    When I first came into the room, Lynne was resting on the bed next to her mother. I started to back out, to not disturb them, but Lynne looked up and saw me and waved me in.
    “Mother, it’s Marlee.”
    My aunt, so weak by now, opened her eyes and acknowledged me. As I was leaving for the night, my cousin Lynne asked her mother if she could smile for me, and to everyone’s surprise, Aunt Norma gave me the biggest smile. It just broke my heart, but in good ways.
    I went back to see her two days later and stayed with the family until her final moments. The room was quiet. I was there with just Lynne, her husband, Elliott, and their daughter, Elisa, around the bed. Lynne’s son, Brian, who had been with his grandmother every day since she had gone into the hospital, left the room with his wife, Allison, who was distraught. Aunt Norma died two minutes later.
    It was the first time I’ve been with someone when the person passed. It was profound and touched me and connected me to my family, my history, in ways I could not have imagined. I’m grateful to have been there. Brian and Allison walked back in just minutes later and we all held each other for comfort.
    It truly was as if the spirit left the body with her last breath. I knew my aunt wasn’t there any longer.
    Over the next two days more of the family flew in. We cried, we laughed, we remembered the beautiful woman she was, the amazing legacy she has left in her children and her grandchildren.
    My twelve-year-old daughter, Sarah, wanted to go to the funeral. At the end, by the graveside, the rabbi asked Sarah to throw a rose on her great-aunt’s grave. I told the rabbi that Sarah’s middle name is Rose, which made the gesture even more meaningful for my family.
    I remember the gentleness and the care the rabbi took with my daughter, whose tears that day reminded me of my own bat mitzvah and how my tears stained the Torah. Our history is indeed written in tears.

13
    F IRST KISS . W HEN I was twelve, with an adorable kid named Tony. He was African-American and we were in the same grammar school class and the same theater group at the center. We kissed with his sister Paula standing there between us trying to coach us.
    That kiss was incredible. It was great.
    First boyfriend. Randy—a great gentleman even though he